Wise Beyond His Years
by Bonnia
Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry stands at Dumbledore's grave and thinks, and is then joined by a man who claims to know his suffering. A man named Arthur Kirkland. Oneshot crossover.


**Title: **Wise Beyond His Years

**Author: **Bonnia

**Rating: **K

**Summary: **After the Final Battle, Harry stands at Dumbledore's grave and thinks, and is then joined by a man who claims to know his suffering. A man named Arthur Kirkland. Oneshot crossover.

**Warnings: **None, although I suppose spoilers for HBP and DH. Ah, and a bit of USUK at the end.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own either Harry Potter or Hetalia, or I'd be drowning in money right now.

**Author's Note: **I wrote this before August started, as plot bunnies floated in my mind. In an attempt to reassure the world that I am not dead and to have something to do, I'm uploading it. Be assured that it is not my best work, by far- but I guess I'm satisfied. Watchers of Finding Home, it'll come. Please stick with me.

* * *

"He truly was a great man."

A wand was pointed at the man's throat instantly, but his gaze merely flickered down before shooting back to the tomb. His expression twisted as he went on. "Not many of those left, I'm afraid."

"Who are you?" The Boy-Who-Lived's voice was hard, unflinching in the presence of the new stranger who had so rudely interrupted him. Behind him, the glory of Hogwarts was illuminated by the sunrise, beaten but not broken. Streams of sunlight flickered around it, casting a hazy glow on the remains of the grounds.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One or all sorts of other names, had just defeated the most dangerous Dark Lord in over half a century. Therefore, he thought he quite had the right to some time alone, paying a tribute to the greatest headmaster the world had ever seen. Albus Dumbledore's grave stood before him, unyielding to the elements.

He had simply wanted to pay respects to Dumbledore again, as Albus Dumbledore the man and not the leader of the Light or the Order of the Phoenix. And now this mysterious stranger had appeared out of nowhere to interrupt him.

He certainly looked plain enough, but there was something about him Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Scruffy, unkempt blond hair not unlike his own black locks topped off a delicate, lithe figure. The man had unusually large eyebrows, but Harry had grown used to odd facial features long ago.

It was the eyes, though, that drew him in. Green eyes, glowing eyes as green as his mother's or his own. Eyes filled with an insurmountable knowledge and wisdom, eyes that told of a thousand battles won or lost. Green eyes that stared back at him now, tinged with amusement over pain and suffering.

"I asked, who are you?" He growled again, pressing his wand into the man's throat to shake his thoughts away. To his shock, the man merely chuckled and lifted one finger to lower Harry's wand.

"Not a smart choice, lad," he advised, stepping away to stand in front of Dumbledore's grave. Scowling, Harry stomped up to him and was about to shove him away when a cold merciless hand grabbed his wrist.

Letting out an involuntary gasp as the bones in his wrist ground together, Harry winced as his hand was released, rubbing his wrist. The stranger said nothing, simply staring at the grave once more without acknowledging him.

For a few moments they stood together, both silent and lost in their thoughts. Finally, though, the man began to speak aloud as if forced to voice his thoughts.

"I only met him once," he started, "and yet once was enough to impose on me what kind of a man Albus Dumbledore was. He was incessantly kind and had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen."

Harry found himself nodding unconsciously, agreeing with what he was saying.

"He was an amazing fighter and leader, the man was. He could look at someone and understand them instantly, and had a way of knowing what everyone was thinking. May have had something to do with that passive Legilimency he conducted daily."

Eyes widening, Harry began to protest against that, but the man glanced at his figure and cut him off with a chuckle that grated his nerves. "Yes, I know what you're thinking. We both know Albus wasn't as holy as he seemed to be."

Questions began to float through Harry's mind, unbidden at that. "M-maybe, but he was still a great man! And who are you anyway?" He accused, suddenly remembering he still knew nothing about this man.

Turning, the blond stared at him for a moment before a small smirk graced his lips and he stuck out one hand. "Arthur Kirkland, pleased to meet you."

Harry turned his gaze down to the outstretched hand, and then tentatively shook hands with him. He opened his mouth to introduce himself in turn, but Arthur waved him off.

"I'm quite aware of who you are. Harry James Potter, son to James Henry Potter and Lily Potter nee Evans, am I correct?"

Harry's mouth flopped open for a moment, not unlike a fish, before he gathered himself and shut it hastily. "Y-yeah."

"Good. I'd like to thank you for the service you did to m- our country."

Now, instead of Harry being interested in this man a twinge of irritation struck him. "I just did it to stop him," he grumbled. "It was either him or me, and the world would crumble if it was him." Arthur laughed once, a short sound that didn't feel very amused.

"Maybe so, my boy, but at the same time you did me a great service. If you'd like to think of it that way, then I suppose it was your duty."

That comparison only annoyed Harry more, enough so that he stepped away and glared at Arthur. "What? I may have had to do it, but I certainly didn't want to! It's not my fault that prophecy chose me!"

The blond turned a sharp glare on Harry, one more powerful than any the black-haired boy could have conjured up. His acidic gaze sharpened as he spat, "Well, at least you can go on with your life now. You can live happily and forget all about this."

Harry's gaze turned to the sky as he spun away from Arthur. "... I'll never forget."

Arthur sighed heavily, turning to face the same way as him. They made a strange picture, two messy-haired men with green eyes staring off into the distance. "Neither will I, lad. Neither will I."

Harry continued by himself, ranting to the air and nearly forgetting the other was there. "I'll never forget, and no one will ever be able to really understand."

"Do you truly believe that?"

Blinking, Harry looked out at the blue sky and thought for a moment, pondering out loud. "Not fully, but-"

"You think that because you've had so many people die because of you, that nobody else will be able to understand your guilt, is that right?"

Harry froze, eyes wide as he stared at Arthur, who had just summed his feelings up in one sentence. The green-eyed blond folded his hands behind his back and stared at a cloud in the sky, gaze impossibly far away. "What you need to remember is that those people did not blame you for their deaths. They chose to fight, and they knew the dangers. Shouldn't you be thankful that they thought your life important enough to cherish?"

"Not-not if it made them die! I would rather have died than Remus, or Tonks, or Sirius..." Harry choked out.

"Yes, I know."

Harry snapped, clenching his hands into fists and spinning on his heel. "What do you know about me?"

"Most everything, I suppose."

"W-what? That makes you sound like some kind of Rita Skeeter, you know."

"What can I say? I have a very strong affinity with the people of my country."

Harry didn't even try to figure that sentence out, since before he had a chance a yell caught his attention. Turning, he made out the three figures of Ron, Hermione and Ginny speeding towards him at a rapid pace. "Oi, Harry!" Ron called out once he was in earshot, and then fell silent as the three paused a ways away from the other two.

"Mr. Potter. Go now, and try to live happily. Find a way, or a person to heal the scars." Harry caught Arthur's gaze, both pairs of green mingling in some sort of understanding Harry wouldn't be able to describe then, or years into the future.

Arthur's lips twitched upwards in what Harry thought was an ironic smile. "Now, before your friends decide I'm a threat."

Harry glanced at him one last time, thinking that this man Arthur looked wise beyond his years. He supposed he must look like that too, with everything that had gone on that night. Then he looked at the marble stone of his former headmaster and turned away, heading towards his friends at a slight jog.

"Hey, who was that?" Ron asked once he got over there. Harry shrugged.

"Some guy named Arthur. Knew the headmaster."

"Really? I've never seen him around," Hermione mused, and started bickering with Ron as the two headed back towards the castle. Harry looked down at Ginny, who smiled at him brightly, blue eyes gleaming as she softly took his hand and pulled him along, towards the new day.

* * *

"So, that was him?"

Arthur sighed and crossed his arms at the familiar voice, a faint smile on his face shadowed by the look in his eyes. "Yes, that was Mr. Potter. When did you get here, Alfred?"

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around the smaller nation, pulling him back against a warm chest. "As soon as I could," Alfred F. Jones proclaimed quietly. "You okay, Artie?"

"No, I'm not okay, you twat!" Arthur protested, but with little fervor. His body was fatigued and green eyes closed of their own accord for a moment, before shooting open again as Arthur's body lifted into the air.

"What the- let go of me, you idiot!" He yelped, wiggling around in an attempt to get Alfred to drop him and pushing against his chest. Alfred stopped walking and merely looked down at Arthur with a soft expression that made the blond blush red.

"Come on, Artie," he pleaded quietly, surprisingly not whining. "Let me be the hero and carry the damsel in distress off into the sunset." He shot Arthur a brilliant smile, while the other simply turned redder and smacked him in the shoulder.

"I'm not your bloody damsel! And it's not even night, and we're walking _away_ from the sunrise, you id-" his last word was cut off by a loud yawn that the gentleman failed to cover up, and Alfred snickered.

"See, you're tired. Just go to sleep, Arthur," the blue-eyed nation whispered quietly, shifting his grip so he could rest Arthur's head against his shoulder.

"Shut it, you..." Arthur muttered, his eyes sliding closed and his breathing evening out after a night of restless fighting within himself, the nation finally succumbing to his exhaustion. Alfred looked down at his Arthur once, making his more comfortable and then continued walking away from the site of so much pain.

* * *

**Author's Note:** There, have some crossover fun. Now that I read it over, I'm actually somewhat pleased with this. Anyway, please review if you're looking at this, whether you liked the story or not!


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